It may be repetitive, but some things need to be said (and thought) over and over again. The following observations came out of an online forum discussion I indulged in (procrastinating) with some friends who’ve also signed on for NaNoWriMo. I offer them as encouragement for anyone who feels like faltering in the 30-day sprint to a first draft. Beyond NaNoWriMo, these points––certainly the attitude they represent––are just good thinking for any fiction writer buffaloed by the challenge of a new novel.
• Don’t worry about “winning.” I’ve snagged myself on that one before. NaNoWriMo may call it winning, but what they’re really all about is getting something done. They set only the most amorphous of goals, page production, period, to discourage perfectionism and blunt the tyranny of high expectations. The problem is, a goal of any kind implies other, more personally arduous self-demands, different in all of us.
The solution: neutralize them by reminding yourself, whenever those inner nags start up, that in NaNoWriMo Land, you “win” by simply showing up for 30 days, word-count be damned.
• The NaNoWriMo people are well aware of the high expectations “block,” and go to great pains to banish if, but it doesn’t die easily. People who don’t finish the course give all sorts of reasons, but the big one is self-generated pressure to be “going somewhere” with the story” and weariness with feeling failure every time they fall short of that 1,500 words. If you’re a person who needs orders to follow, you may not be comfortable with my solution, but I’m convinced the answer is to take control and redefine NaNoWriMo in your own image; bend and shape it to serve your needs. In the long view, 500 words is a good day’s work. Keep that up five days a week and you’ll pile up…damn, 120,000 words in only a year. And that’s allowing a generous four weeks for vacation!
• My own personal experience is as a novelist, so I’d go nuts if I couldn’t take the long view. I’ve learned to keep my expectations comfortably low, meaning I’ll be delighted if in 30 days I can lay a half-decent foundation for my story––and maybe some of the sub flooring too. Whether I “win” NaNoWriMo or not, if I’ve produced something solid enough to build on in 30 days, there’s no way it won’t have been worth it.
• And about those wimpy 200 or 300 word days: there will be others when your fingers fly and before you know it you’ve piled up 3,000 or 4,000 words and still counting. Those days more than make up for the others, BUT ONLY IF YOU STAY IN. Think of those races where your horse hangs back, last in the pack, a disappointment, a sure loser. But back to the race–seeming them entering the stretch, you begin to realize he’s been moving up through the pack and suddenly he’s surging forward full tilt right down to the wire and—-omigod HE’S WON! (NOTE: Even when losing, a racehorse never decides to bail, turns off the track, depressed, and heads for the stables. As badly as he’s running, he finishes.)
• Once again: here is essential takeaway from the NaNoWriMo trial by word length. “Every day” is incalculably more significant a concept than “1,500.” You get there by defining, or redefining NaNoWriMo your way; bending and shaping it to reflect the needs and quirks of your own personal psychology.
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